


supposed to

by katierosefun



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker is a Little Shit, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Human Disaster Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Protective Ahsoka Tano, Protective Anakin Skywalker, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25689481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katierosefun/pseuds/katierosefun
Summary: Anakin heard a sharp intake of breath, a small gasp.He waited—and nothing came out.Anakin looked up from his datapad to Ahsoka, who was lounging on the seat across from him. She looked up from her datapad too, the expression on her face one of equal parts boredom and exasperation. Anakin lifted an eyebrow, and Ahsoka lifted up her hand.Five, four, three, Ahsoka mouthed, flicking down her fingers. She tilted her head to the side as there was another breath from the other side of the room. Two, one—Obi-Wan sneezed.[or: Obi-Wan catches a cold.]
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 10
Kudos: 355





	supposed to

Anakin heard a sharp intake of breath, a small gasp.

He waited—and nothing came out.

Anakin looked up from his datapad to Ahsoka, who was lounging on the seat across from him. She looked up from her datapad too, the expression on her face one of equal parts boredom and exasperation. Anakin lifted an eyebrow, and Ahsoka lifted up her hand.

 _Five, four, three_ , Ahsoka mouthed, flicking down her fingers. She tilted her head to the side as there was another breath from the other side of the room. _Two, one_ —

Obi-Wan sneezed.

Anakin looked at Ahsoka. _How_ —

Ahsoka shrugged and pushed the tissue box over to Obi-Wan.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, grabbing a tissue. He blew his nose quietly and stood up to toss the tissue in what Anakin knew had to be the already half-filled wastebasket of discarded tissues. Anakin pretended to keep reading from his datapad as he observed Obi-Wan’s little shuffle to and from one side of the room to the other.

Obi-Wan really did look miserable, his face pale except for the little flush in his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Eyes slightly watery and just as red-rimmed, hair disheveled from what Anakin knew had to be a sleepless night. He had hoped that Obi-Wan would sleep in today of all days, but of course, he had been up bright and early, drinking _caf_.

Obi-Wan _never_ drank caf.

Obi-Wan sneezed again.

As Obi-Wan reached for the tissues, Anakin stood up and picked up the wastebasket. He took one glance inside—sure enough, the wastebasket was a little more than halfway full of tissues—and set it down next to Obi-Wan’s seat.

Obi-Wan glanced up at Anakin, blinking owlishly around a tissue. Anakin would have laughed if he didn’t feel so bad about his poor master getting a cold after some run-in with a sniffling senator.

“You know,” Anakin said, sitting back down in his chair, “you don’t have to stay here. Ahsoka and I have this covered.”

“You two hate research,” Obi-Wan replied thickly, tossing the tissue into the wastebasket. He sneezed a third time, this time so hard that a lock of his already-disheveled hair fell past his forehead. 

“Yeah,” Anakin said, waiting for Obi-Wan to finish blowing his nose. “But you look—”

“Terrible,” Ahsoka cut in, setting down her datapad. “You look _terrible_ , Master Kenobi. And besides,” she added, swinging her feet to the ground, “we’re already halfway done. We can take care of the rest of the research from here.”

“This is _serious_ —”

“You’re right, Master,” Anakin said, pushing himself off his chair. “This is _serious_ , meaning _you_ need to rest.” Ignoring Obi-Wan’s little squirm of protest—an actual _squirm_ , as though he was a child, Anakin wrapped his hands around Obi-Wan’s warm wrists and dragged him out of his seat.

“Anakin—don’t—”

“Don’t argue with me on this one,” Anakin said. He looked over his shoulder at Ahsoka, who just grinned. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Ahsoka flashed a thumbs-up. “Rest well, Master Kenobi!”

Obi-Wan muttered something that Anakin didn’t quite catch, but still, he didn’t argue as Anakin tugged him out the doors of the small study room.

Still relatively early in the morning, the Archives were mostly quiet. A few sleepy-eyed younglings were seated by the computers, only lifting their head once to process the sight of Anakin practically dragging Obi-Wan through the large space.

“You can let go of me now, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said as yet another youngling looked up from her computer.

“Promise you won’t run back?”

“I think you and I both know I’m not quite cap-capable—” Obi-Wan suddenly jerked out of Anakin’s grip, and for a moment, Anakin wondered if Obi-Wan really _was_ going to try heading back to the study room, but no, Obi-Wan was coughing into the crook of his elbow.

Obi-Wan’s face pinked, though whether from the exertion or embarrassment, Anakin didn’t know. He maneuvered himself to Obi-Wan’s other side, shielding him from the eyes of both annoyed and curious younglings and masters.

Anakin settled a hand on Obi-Wan’s warm back, patting it a few times as the last of the coughs made their way out. And when he finally finished, Anakin said, “You were saying?”

Obi-Wan shot Anakin a glare which probably would have been more effective if his nose and eyes weren’t so red.

“Come on,” Anakin said, patting Obi-Wan’s back again. Another feeble cough. “Let’s go before we wake up even Master Sinube.”

“ _Anakin_ —” An anxious look backwards, to where indeed the old master was sleeping peacefully near the computers.

“Kidding, kidding—”

\--

“Do you think he’ll still be asleep?” Ahsoka asked, gingerly balancing the cup of soup in her hands.

“He should be,” Anakin replied, thinking of how Obi-Wan had slipped easily into bed. He had coughed a few times, rolled away from Anakin, and promptly fallen asleep. Which was new, considering that Obi-Wan was such a light sleeper…but Anakin was willing to take it. “So we’ll just have to be quiet.”

“It’s good that he’s getting some rest,” Ahsoka said, adjusting her grip on the cup. “Even if he’s sick.” She glanced over at Anakin. “What if he wakes up? And won’t go back to sleep?”

“We’ll convince him,” Anakin replied, slowing to a stop in front of Obi-Wan’s door. He pressed the button, waiting for the door to slide open. “And besides, if he’s tired enough, he probably won’t argue as— _Obi-Wan_ —”

Obi-Wan jumped a little, lifting his head up from his datapad. For a moment, Obi-Wan’s eyes were disoriented, unfocused, and then he blinked. “Ah,” he said in a small voice. “Hello, Anakin. Ahsoka.”

“Oh, boy…” Anakin heard Ahsoka murmur behind him, but he was already storming forward.

“You’re supposed to be _resting_ ,” Anakin said, snatching the datapad out of Obi-Wan’s hands. He sat down on Obi-Wan’s bed, trying to meet his former master’s eyes. Which was difficult, because Obi-Wan was looking down, his shoulders a little hitched forward in a halfhearted cringe. “Did you sleep at _all_?”

“Some,” Obi-Wan replied, and when Anakin glared at him, he said, “Come now, Anakin, you’re acting like I’m—” Anakin heard the hitch of breath first, and then Obi-Wan was twisting away to cough in the other direction.

The cough sounded terribly, objectively worse. Deeper, throatier, the kind that made Anakin’s own throat hurt.

“Obi-Wan—” Anakin pushed himself forward, but Obi-Wan waved him away, his head shaking.

“Don’t,” Obi-Wan rasped, rolling over to his back. Anakin looked down at him, at Obi-Wan’s still-disheveled hair and glazed grey-blue eyes and chapped lips. He was, Anakin decided, absolutely miserable. And all the anger and annoyance Anakin felt just a minute ago slipped away, replaced only by an exasperation that had Anakin pushing his hand up to Obi-Wan’s forehead, right up to where that rebelling bit of hair had fallen over his face.

Obi-Wan gave a feeble little cough, turning his head against the pillow and away from Anakin. “You’ll get sick,” he protested weakly.

“Strong immune system,” Anakin replied. He turned to Ahsoka, who had quietly moved into the kitchenette. He saw her pour the soup into a separate bowl, and when she looked up, she flashed another thumbs-up.

“What were you doing anyways?” Anakin asked, turning back around to Obi-Wan.

“Reports,” Obi-Wan said, his voice giving up. Anakin could tell that it was, because his voice had become softer, raspier. “Had some left…”

“You’re the only one who cares about finishing those reports,” Anakin said, shaking his head.

A small noise of discomfort.

“You know it’s _true_ …”

“It is _not_.”

“Don’t work him up, Master,” Ahsoka said, coming around with the heated bowl of soup. She sat down next to Anakin, the bed dipping just slightly under Ahsoka’s weight.

“It’s my job to work him up,” Anakin said, helping Obi-Wan sit up. He felt Obi-Wan huff against him. “Amongst other things.” He drew back in time to catch the eye roll Obi-Wan gave him.

“There it is,” Anakin said. “Ahsoka, soup.”

\--

“Anakin…”

“ _Sh_.”

“Ahsoka—”

“Sorry, Master,” Ahsoka said, setting Obi-Wan’s datapad at the other end of the room.

Obi-Wan sighed, dropping his head back down against the pillow.

Anakin readjusted the blankets, sat back down on Obi-Wan’s bed. “Comfy?”

Another sigh.

Anakin waited.

And then, slightly muffled: “Yes, Anakin.”

\--

“I _did_ tell you that you were going to get sick…” Obi-Wan said a few days later, rubbing Anakin’s back as he coughed into his pillow.

“Don’t—”

“I won’t get sick again.”

“No,” Anakin groaned, rolling over on his back. “Don’t tell me you told me so.”

Anakin caught the little smile Obi-Wan gave him.

And then Obi-Wan was settling his hand over Anakin’s forehead, a cool, gentle touch that pushed back his hair.

Anakin sighed, closing his eyes.

“You really shouldn’t have gotten sick because of me,” Obi-Wan said above him.

Anakin only smiled. “Worth it.”

He heard Obi-Wan’s sigh, and then Ahsoka’s slightly muffled voice in the background: “I swear, Master, if you hack all over me—”

A quiet laugh from Obi-Wan, one that Anakin joined a second later.

The door slid open, and Ahsoka entered, carrying another familiar bowl of soup.

“So,” Ahsoka said, passing the soup along to Anakin, “what happened to the strong immune system?”

“Very funny, Snips.”

“No, she’s right—I was about to ask about—”

“Do you want me to give this back to you? Because I will.”

“No, Anakin. Just drink your soup.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know, I haven't written any non-angsty sickfics in a while (or ever). So! Here we are!
> 
> **also, major thanks to everyone on tumblr last night who was sending me the kindest and sweetest messages ever as I agonized over the fact that I'm almost always writing sick fics. Thank you for the lovely nudge. <3
> 
> As always, comments/kudos are greatly appreciated! (And if you would ever like to chat/scream some more about tcw/this lovely space family, you can find me on [tumblr](https://katierosefun.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
